


Special Powers

by josiepug



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Eating Disorders, Gen, Pre-Canon, cute and fucked up, is how i'd describe it, it's not quite that dark tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:55:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22331488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/josiepug/pseuds/josiepug
Summary: Tommy misses supper. Ada notices.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 75





	Special Powers

**Author's Note:**

> After a long hiatus from this fandom and several thorny WIPs...here's a thing! This is ideally going to be part of a larger set of connected works around Tommy's fucked up relationship with food, but tbh don't hold your breath. 
> 
> Also...who can figure out how old the Shelbys are supposed to be? Not me, that's for sure. The only thing I'm confident about is that Finn can't have the same mother as the rest of them for any of this to work. So, in this fic, Finn is not yet born and Ada is eight years old.
> 
> TW: fucked up discussion of eating

Ada was sat at the kitchen table. It was only her, John, Polly, and Tommy that night. Arthur was off at some pub and their Da had been gone months, maybe forever this time. Ada missed him, the way he would sweep her up in his big strong arms and ask how his little princess was doing. Tommy would carry her sometimes, but he wasn’t big and strong like Da. And he hadn’t bought her Dolly. She hugged Dolly tight to her chest. Dolly might be raggedy and have belonged to someone else first, but Ada had loved her best and so it didn’t matter where she’d been before. Ada set Dolly on the table.

“John, Dolly is going to make you a drink.” Ada walked Dolly over to Polly’s whisky bottle, holding the doll’s hands so she could pick it up and pour a measure. John pushed the bottle back down.

“I’m not playing with you,” he said. “That’s a baby game. I’m going to go get Arthur for supper.” He stood up decisively. John was twelve now, so he was a man, but Ada kept forgetting. Just last year they were off stealing sweets and playing American cowboy games together. 

“Would you go to the stables for me, John? Mr. Roche wanted me get Peewee’s blanket cleaned and I forgot it out there,” Tommy said, not looking at either of them. He was standing by the stove, stirring the stew and smoking a cigarette.

“Of course, Tommy,” John said eagerly. He gave Ada a smug look before he left the kitchen. Ada stuck out her tongue at his back. Just because Tommy had him running his errands, John thought he was such a big man. Well, Ada didn’t need to be a man. She was a princess.

Tommy smiled at John’s back as he left the room. Then he walked over to the table and took a sip of the freshly poured whisky. “Thank you, Dolly. Here.” He took the whisky glass and held it to Dolly’s mouth. He pulled it away quickly. “Woah there. Not too much. Ada doesn’t want you getting drunk.” 

Ada giggled. “That's enough, Dolly.” Tommy smiled at Ada this time, pouring the rest of the whisky back into the bottle.

“Hand that here, now. Get it away from the child,” Polly said, reaching out for the bottle from her place at the sink.

“I was thinking to save some of it,” Tommy said, but Polly’s fingers made little grabbing motions and he handed it over. She took a slug straight from the bottle.

“I don’t need you to pour for me, Thomas. I’m not John. You can’t just send me on a wild goose chase and hope I don’t notice,” Polly said.

“John’s with the horses, not the gooses,” Ada protested in confusion, but the adults ignored her.

“And you rather I let him go to the Garrison and try to bring Arthur back on his own? If Arthur’s even still there and not with one of the girls. Or more than one,” Tommy said. Ada wondered what was so wrong with girls.

“Oh, and you’re a Puritan now, are you?” Polly said. “Let people live their lives, Tommy, and you can live yours.” She took another drink of whisky, staring at Tommy as she did so. 

Ada wanted to leave. She liked Aunt Polly a lot, but since Ada’s cousins went away, just last year, she could sometimes be a bit scary. One time, Ada had asked whether her cousins were now in Heaven, and Polly had screamed at her until Tommy had started screaming at Polly and then everyone was yelling and it was awful. Ada didn’t think it would get that bad this time, but she didn’t want to risk it.

She pulled Dolly close and stood up, heading for the bedroom. The good part about Da being gone was that Tommy and Arthur got his room, and it was just John and her in the other room. Polly slept next door. Ada laid Dolly down in her bed and petted her strings of hair back.

“There, there, Dolly. You can sleep now and you don’t have to worry at all. Supper’s going to be very nice and no one’s going to leave. John and Arthur’ll be back soon. And if you’re very, very good, Da’ll be home for Christmas. He told me that in a letter.” Ada was so focused on soothing her doll that she didn’t hear Tommy until he spoke.

“Is Dolly all right then? She isn’t coming down with anything, is she?” He crouched down all fours and put out his cigarette. Ada shook her head.

“She’s just sleepy. And hungry.”

“Well I’m sure Aunt Polly will let her have some of that stew when it’s ready, along with a nice hunk of bread for dipping. What do you say to that, eh?” Ada smiled, and Tommy sat all the way down on the floor, legs crossed. He was seventeen, and he’d been an adult for ages, but he was the best at playing.

“So, since Dolly’s asleep, what did you do at school today, Ada?” Ada told him about the times tables and the neat little rows she’d made on the paper, and how the teacher had complimented her on having the nicest rows of all, with all the right numbers in them. As soon as she started talking, she forgot all about the horses that might have been gooses and the way the whisky bottle got passed around. 

“FUCK!” The yell was Polly’s, from down in the kitchen. In an instant, Tommy was on his feet, pounding down the stairs. Ada followed more slowly, scared of what she would find.

She peaked around the doorway. The kitchen smelled bad like smoke and Polly was talking fast, standing very close to Tommy. He was holding the whisky bottle now, and it was mostly empty. “The fucking thing got stuck, and I tried to turn it off, but it wouldn’t go. I think there’s a bit we can save here. And the bread. And I’ll just go and—“

“No, no. You sit down. There’s plenty left. Don’t worry about it. I know. I know. Ada, will you get a bowl for your Aunt Polly?” Ada jumped. She didn’t know that Tommy had seen her. She ran to get the bowl, and found something lumpy and disgusting in the sink. She wrinkled her nose and hurried back, handing the bowl to Tommy to fill. She wasn’t allowed near the stove since John nearly got his hand burnt off. Even though that was John and not her. 

Just then, the door opened. It was John and, surprisingly, Arthur. “Smells like shit in here. I’m starving,” Arthur said cheerfully. 

“You’re back early,” Tommy replied, and he meant something more than what he said, but Ada didn’t know what.

“Yeah, well, can’t win ‘em all. Met John on me way back. Isn’t that right, John boy?” John beamed. “Where’s Pol?”  
“Guess,” Tommy said drily, and Arthur grimaced, looking into his bowl. “Not much tonight, is there?” 

“There’s enough,” Tommy repeated. Arthur shrugged and poured some of his portion into John’s bowl. 

“For the growing boy, eh? I’ve got a bout on Saturday. Against that fucker Carlisle. Smash his head in and we’ll be eating like kings next week.”

“Well, I hope you’re not cooking it,” Tommy said with a grin. Arthur shoved him, and he pushed back lightly. “Ada, get over here and get your share before Arthur here gets greedy.” Seeing them joke around like that made Ada feel better. Polly had been worried about nothing.

But her heart sank when she got up to the stove. Tommy was scraping the bottom of the pot, which was all black around the edges. He managed to fill her bowl, but Ada said, in a whisper like it was a secret, “What are you going to eat?” 

“I had supper with Charlie earlier. I’m not hungry,” but he whispered too, and Arthur and John didn’t hear. Ada frowned at him, sensing something amiss.

“You sure?”

“Why would I lie? Go on then, eat your supper and make sure you save some for Dolly. She was starved earlier if I remember.” 

The stew tasted burnt, and even more watery than usual, but Ada ate it anyway. She watched Tommy extra hard that night, but neither Arthur nor John said anything to him. Polly had gone off to her own room with her soup and the rest of the bottle whisky. Ada felt a sudden surge of anger. If Da was here, there would have been plenty to go around.

Later that night, Ada lay in her bed. John was on the other side of the room, fast asleep. He had started snoring recently, and kept Ada awake. She played with Dolly in her hands, wishing there was a window in her room. If there was window, she would be able to make shapes in the moonlight until she fell asleep.

But there wasn’t a window.

The door opened a crack. She knew who it was without looking. “Hi Tommy,” she whispered so as not to wake John.

“What are you doing awake?” Tommy stepped further into the room. He was holding a candle, and it seemed like it was all the light there was in Small Heath. 

Ada shrugged. “Just thinking.”

“What do you have to be thinking about? Go to sleep,” it sounded mean, but she knew Tommy didn’t intend it that way. 

“Tell me a story.” She scrunched up her legs so he could sit down.

“I don’t want to wake John.”

“Well, tell it quietly then.”

“Right, princess. Which one do you want?”

“Tell me about how you found Peewee, with the big, scary Italian and the bet.”

“All right, then. So how it went was this. I was out with Toadie, down by the docks…”

Ada curled into her blanket, listening to Tommy’s soft voice tell the familiar tale. By the time he got to the part where he bet the Italian that he could teach Peewee how to climb all the factory stairs, Ada was nearly asleep. She listened drowsily as Tommy trailed off, one of his hands set gently on her shoulder.

She had almost nodded off completely when she heard the rumble from Tommy’s belly. Instantly, her eyes flew open. Tommy couldn’t see that she was awake in the weak light of the candle, but Ada could see him, and it was like she had never seen him before.

In the weird glow of the candle, his cheeks stood out sharply and he was looking down at her, but she didn’t think he was really seeing her. It made her feel cold and suddenly much older than when he had been telling her the story.

“Why did you lie to me?” She asked, still quiet, but she saw him flinch.

“I wasn’t lying.” 

“About not being hungry. I know you were. There just wasn’t enough food, and you wanted to make sure I ate and so you lied.” Ada didn’t try to keep the hurt out of her voice.

“It wasn’t lying. Listen, Ada.” Tommy shifted, setting the candle down on the table and pulling Ada in close. She had expected him to leave. That he didn’t made her think that whatever he was about to say must be important. She listened closely.

“The thing is, you’re right. There wasn’t enough food. But there’s no changing that, so I changed something else. I said I wasn’t hungry, and it’s not lying, it’s just…making a new truth. See, it won’t work for you, so don’t try it, but for me, even if I’m a little bit hungry, all I have to do is wait a while and say that I’m not hungry. And soon enough, it becomes true.” Tommy tapped his head. “It’s all in here.”

“But not for me?”

Tommy shook his head. “You’re a growing girl. It’s not the same. But for me, it’s something I can do. Like a special power.” Tommy ran a hand through her hair and Ada hummed, settling deeper into his lap.

“A special power,” she murmured, and then she was asleep.

It turned out that Tommy had a lot of special powers, and this one, like most of them, came with certain unfortunate downsides. But Ada wouldn’t understand that for many more years.

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to all you lovely readers and also to Peewee, the horse my grandad rescued from a basement apartment in the Bronx who did indeed love to climb stairs.


End file.
